Poetry
by greeneyedAlice91
Summary: On the plane going to a case Spencer recites a poem to keep occupied. what is the poem and who is it for? Sperek


**AN: Just a little detour from 'The Way the Water Flows'. My first Criminal Minds story so be nice. Sperek.**

**Poetry **

**Spencer's Point of View**

The jet is as luxurious as always but I can't seem to focus on the leather seats or the paneling. I can't even focus on the case file in my lap right now. Laughter from the rest of the team makes me sigh wistfully. They were all sitting near each other and not one, not even JJ asked me to join in on the conversation. '_Just like high school.'_ I thought sadly. I shook my head, shoulder-length hair swaying a bit, as my gaze drifted downward. The case wasn't one I could relate to and for me that was a good thing. A serial killer who targets those he feels have wronged him had killed again last night, which is why the team was flying out to the small town he resided in. It was a sleepy little town in Kansas that had never had this happen till now. Or so the sheriff said. The sound of Morgan's laughter brought me out of my distraction and the pain in my heart flared again.

Not only did them not including me hurt, I had to sit and watch my secret crush SSA Derek Morgan flirt with my other co-workers. Sighing, I propped my feet up and tried to relax. '_I know, I'll recite a couple poems to myself. That will keep me occupied till we land.' _I thought. Closing my eyes and reaching as far back in my eidetic memory as I could I brought a favorite poem of mine to the forefront of my mind. "**This being human is a guesthouse/Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness,/ Some momentary awareness comes/ As an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all!/ Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,/ Who violently sweep your house/ Empty of its furniture,/ Still, treat each guest honorably./ He may be clearing you out/ For some new delight./ The dark thought, the shame, the malice,/ Meet them at the door laughing,/ And invite them in./ Be grateful for whoever comes,/ Because each has been sent/ As a guide from beyond."***

I pause and regain my breath. That poem is one I've tried my hardest to live by and so far I haven't done it justice. My eyes fly open as a hand touches my shoulder. "Reid?" a voice asks. I know that voice…Morgan. "Hmm?" I glance up and see him and the rest of the team around me. "What were you saying? Were you talking in your sleep?" he asked. "No I was awake, just reciting a poem to keep occupied. Sorry to disturb you all." I said, a tinge of red light my cheeks. "You weren't disturbing us at all. So do you have a favorite poem?" JJ asked, sitting beside me. The blush deepened and I turned to stare out the window. "Yeah I do actually." The poem I had in mind would reveal at least one thing no one, save for my mother knew; that I am gay. My focus was turned outwardly again as I heard Prentiss say, "Well…recite it for us then genius." I grinned at her playful tone for a moment. It won't be playful for long…clearing my throat and keeping my eyes on my lap I started speaking.

"**He's lost him utterly./ And from now on he seeks/ In the lips of every new/ Lover that he takes/ The lips of that one: **_**his**_**./ Coupling with every new/ Lover that he takes/ He longs to be mistaken:/ That it's the same young man,/ That he's giving himself to **_**him.**_**/ he's lost him utterly,/ As if he'd never been./ Because he wished-he said-/He wished to save himself/ From that stigmatized/ Pleasure, so unwholesome;/ From that stigmatized/ Pleasure in its shame./ There was still time, he said-/ Time to save himself. He's lost him utterly,/ As if he'd never been./ In his imagination,/ In his delusions/ In the lips of other youths/ He seeks the lips of that one;/ He wishes he might/ Feel his love again."* **I spare a glance in Morgan's direction but he has his eyes closed and looks in deep thought. JJ's eyes are misted over and Prentiss, for once hadn't made a jab at my eidetic memory. It is Hotch who asks the first question. "So what made that your favorite?" I blink for a minute. Maybe they hadn't figured it out. Maybe I could lie…one look at JJ assured me I couldn't. "Well…simply put I can relate to it, in more ways than one." I said, allowing my hidden meaning to be processed. "How long…?" Prentiss asked. "Since I was about 13 or so. I, however have never told my feelings to the person I…like. Sometimes…ah never mind. You all can go back to your conversation. I probably bored you with my 'rambling'." I muttered, turning my head away.

This time it was the one person I wanted to hear most who spoke. "First of all Reid you weren't boring us. And secondly, sometimes what?" Morgan said, his deep smooth voice sending a shiver down my spine. "S-Sometimes…I wish I could be braver and tell the person I like how I feel." Rubbing my eyes tiredly I whispered, "But they would never feel the same…he would never feel the same." Seeing that I wasn't going to say anymore, JJ stood and squeezed my shoulder. Prentiss nodded to me and Rossi and Hotch just gave me looks of understanding and reassurance. The only one left near me was Morgan. Instead of leaving he sat down across from me. "So this guy you like, what's he like?" he asked and my palms began to sweat. "Well he's somewhat older than me, obviously. He's more of the jock type, which is one of the reasons I think he'd be turned off. He's a ladies' man which can only mean he's straight. And…we work together." This last part is said as soft as possible.

My eyes are on my lap, 'reading' the case file again when two fingers lift up my chin a bit. "He's not as much of a ladies' man as you think. And for the record, he is so NOT turned of." Morgan said, grinning like he'd won the lottery. I'm sure my jaw was on the floor as he leaned in and kissed me. It was soft and hesitant and everything I imagined it to be. Once my muddled brain kicked in I kissed him back with more force, showing him, hopefully how much I want this. When we pulled away to catch our breath Morgan whispered "Shakespeare was wrong; poetry is the food of love." It might have sounded corny to others but to me it was sweet. So sweet I couldn't help but kiss him again. Pulling back I reply, "Garcia is going to kill us, you know that right?" He nods. "And then she'll want every little detail of what we haven't even done…yet." Morgan said, smirking. As the plane touched down in that small Kansas town I couldn't help but think that no matter what came my way, with Derek Morgan as mine I could weather any storm.

***poem 1: The Guest House by Rumi. Poem 2: In Despair by Constantine Cavafy.**


End file.
